Shane gave her a look that said he doubted it.
“It’s a good idea that when you finally fuck a girl you like, you maybe do something nice after. Like a phone call. A note is fine too. Something that says, you know, ‘Hi, I’m aware you’re not a blow-up doll. Have a nice day.’ No matter what you read in those men’s magazines, breaking up with someone right after fucking them for the first time does not belong in the ‘something nice’ column.”
Shane did not need this shit. It had taken him days to get himself back in Hudson Kings headspace after breaking things off with Cecily, and now that he was in the zone, he intended to stay there. “Gonna pretend you did not say at least three unbelievably ridiculous things just now. Holster, please.”
Missy made a disgruntled sound but shut up and tossed exactly the kind of holster he liked into the box.
Twenty minutes later he met with Roth and Flynn and Chase, who were doing the break-in portion of the job. Shane would rather trespass and burglarize a Russian mobster’s girlfriend’s house than sub for Romeo’s gig, but at least he got to be in a car. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d argued with one of Rothgar’s assignments. This didn’t rate to be the first.
After the meeting, he headed to the garage to check out a piece of shit from the latest rotation of disposable cars. He got into one he didn’t remember ever driving and headed to Kimper’s, reviewing the rest of the to-dos as he drove. Address to, address from, backstory, the stall in which the prepped limo was parked at Kimper’s, Anya Gorchakov’s very sexy picture, which looked like something from a boudoir shoot of questionable taste, and the rundown of his story line. Officially, he didn’t know anything about anything except that the car service had called him as a sub; he was an out-of-work construction worker moonlighting as an Uber Luxury driver who also subbed for Patricia Kimper’s Upper East Side car service.
Gussied up, ear wire tested, and story absorbed, Shane parked his own ride in the back and then headed into Patty’s stable. She was at the desk exactly as he remembered her from a few other gigs in the last couple of years: two yellow Dixon Ticonderoga No. 2s propping up a mess of dark curls and her eyeglass-framed face nearly pressed down to the green-lined ledger she was writing in.
“Hey, Romeo,” she grunted more than said, not looking up. Then it must have hit her: the different cadence of his walk or his smell or something. Because her hand reached slowly under the desk, stopping only when he said, “It’s Shane. Sorry to scare you. Roth put me on sub.”
Her eyebrow arched, and a laugh slowly erupted. “Really.” Just really. And then she aimed the car keys at his bicep instead of his hand and said, “No offense, but I really try to talk as little to you guys as possible. Ciao, bello.”
Fuck, thirty years old and she can barely fucking see. He almost asked if Roth had someone watching over her. But Roth had someone watching over everyone who mattered. “Ciao, bella,” he said gently and went to retrieve the limo.
With the earpiece on, Shane listened to Hudson Kings chatter as the rest of the team prepped for the break-in. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. At the time specified, he parked in front of the skyscraper housing Vlad Sokolov’s real estate development company and several floors of incredibly expensive condominiums, called his position in to HQ, and waited.
Anya was early, and Shane was a little surprised to see she was escorted out the door by her boyfriend this time, as the logs from their surveillance had never suggested that was his MO. He called that bit of information in too.
The boyfriend must have weighed three hundred pounds and looked less like the successful—if crooked—financier he actually was and more like he’d been holed up replaying Bobby Fischer’s greatest moves, without a decent shower or a vegetable side dish to be found.
Shane took a deep breath and tried to inhabit his role, making an effort to look stupid and unremarkable if anyone happened to glance a little closer. This didn’t stop him from observing the way Anya held her body away from Vlad’s and quickly bussed both of his cheeks, the idea apparently to let as little of him touch her as possible. Her distinctive purple handbag with brass knuckle handles was strategically placed between them, and the flyaway fur on the collar of her coat seemed to be shedding into his mouth.
Shane got out of the car and went around to open the door.
Anya gave no sign she recognized him from any of his surveillance activities. She paused as her boyfriend disappeared back into the lobby and Shane held the door. “You’re new,” she said. Thick Russian accent. Smoky, appraising eyes. Her black hair was slicked down, and her hot-pink lipstick was perfectly applied, almost angular in its application.
Her eyes flicked back to the skyscraper door, which had already swung shut, and then ran the length of Shane’s body. She was hot just eating a salad, and Shane was discovering that when you actually had her full attention, she was even hotter. But she wasn’t close to what he wanted. Funny, he never thought of himself as a guy with a type until Cecily. Glitter T-shirts molded to her tits, jeans and sneakers, that gorgeous hair and those perfect legs, tight little ass and a thousand-watt smile. A hot little piece and a big warm heart.
Fuck. Don’t think about Cecily. Just the job.
“Just a sub,” he said with a shrug, forcing a polite smile, staring at her mouth. It would be more suspicious to pretend he didn’t appreciate her looks. He just wished the effect wasn’t comparing how much more he wished she were Cecily.
He settled Anya into the car and got them moving. “On our way,” he said for the benefit of both Anya and Rothgar on the other side of his earpiece.
“Shane, it’s HQ. Snag. We need more time.”
“There’s not much traffic,” Shane said casually. “I’ll have you there in no time.”
“Find some traffic,” Rothgar said into his ear. “You know what we discussed.”
Yeah, Shane knew what they’d discussed. But that kinda shit was Plan B. His mind was full of a bunch of questions he could not verbalize with Anya in the car. Questions like “Come on, guys, what the fuck is taking you so long to get the goods?” and, oh, maybe “What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not in any rush,” Anya said, watching his eyes in the rearview mirror just like Cecily had.
Shane silently requested a slew of red lights and then had to ask himself why he was making this a big deal. He dealt with the unexpected all the time. That was part of his job. Why was he letting the thought of Cecily get in his way if he’d already given her up?
Shane hit another green light. “We’ll be there soon.”
“Find some traffic, Shane. You know what she likes,” Rothgar repeated, his voice edged with tension.
“I’d really like a drink, but there’s something wrong with the minibar. Could you pull over and have a look, please?” Anya asked. Shane glanced in the mirror; Anya had not actually tried to get anything out of the minibar.
Cecily is not your girlfriend. She is not your girlfriend, and you’ve already confirmed that you don’t make sense. Do not fuck up a job for an idea that doesn’t have legs.
Speaking of legs. The rearview mirror revealed Anya had gone commando. “Driver?” she asked.
“Solve this,” Rothgar said coldly into his ear.
Shane turned into a cul-de-sac and eased the car to a stop.
He paused for a moment, staring through the windshield, knowing that if it came to it, he could make his body betray him just the way Rothgar wanted him to.
Close your eyes and think of oranges. And then go home and rip Romeo a new one.
CHAPTER 28
Cecily knew she had to make a decision. Fast. In the real world, Allison had e-mailed a follow-up, saying she was welcome any time. In the world of the Hudson Kings, Cecily had dined alone on overcooked ramen noodles and a seltzer because almost the entire team was out on a mission they’d been planning for weeks. Dex was in the compound somewhere, but he’d made it clear that he was not to be disturbed unless Cecil
y was actually on fire.
Her section of the Armory was ghostly silent for hours and hours, plenty of time to realize that Rothgar’s request was beyond reasonable. These guys had a purpose here, a life, and a family. She’d felt part of this world when she was with Shane, but now she just felt out of place and awkward. A distraction, and not even anybody’s welcome one.
This unpleasant sensation was amplified a thousandfold when Cecily stepped out into the hall with her hair in a ponytail sprouting from the top of her head, wearing Missy’s stupid reject jammies and holding an empty mug destined for the hot cocoa machine.
Because . . . Shane.
Oh, how fitting, Cecily thought miserably. How goddamn fitting that it was finally going to play out in person . . . with monkey pajamas and bad hair.
As she stood frozen in place, Shane walked forward, his eyes on the ground, the click of his dress shoes accompanied by the cheerful clinking of car keys held loosely in one hand.
Black suit. White shirt. Tie untied. Hot pink smeared along that jawline, in the undone collar of his starch-heavy dress shirt. An uncharacteristic misstep as he saw her, his shoulder brushing the wall, the slight tang of bourbon in the air.
She flushed as he saw her and stopped short, his muddy reflexes processing her appearance. One, two, three. Confusion. Amusement. I’m so glad I can still make you laugh, thought Cecily grimly.
“You settle on a class?” Shane asked awkwardly. Not How’s it going? How are you doing? Or, perhaps, a wild card: I love you madly, and I’m an idiot. Probably because he knew her answer would involve her heaving a large ceramic mug at his head.
Cecily stared into her empty mug and then looked straight at him. “Yeah. Picked one.”
His head jolted up. “Any type of contact from James?”
“Nope. I think your message got through.” Her voice sounded robotic in her own ears.
“That’s great,” he said absently, nodding, losing eye contact. “Yeah, you should go do that. You should get on with your life.”
Cecily looked at him sharply, her eye returning again to the pink smears. “What is this shit? This is the first time I see you, the first time we really talk after you act like I’m your woman and we have sex, and this is how you think it should go?” She was either going to cry again or get pissed. She figured she’d done enough crying. “Why didn’t you just go back to your room, avoid this hall, avoid Missy’s room? Did you want me to see you like this?”
Shane blinked. “This is my reality.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Your reality is whatever you want it to be. That’s what I learned from you and the rest of the Hudson Kings. And I think it’s a fantastic way to live,” Cecily said. She longed to say more, ask him for more, like Do you really want me to leave? Am I just a distraction? A disruption? Is it true that I’m not what you really want after all? Was it all just a lie? Do you honestly still believe we don’t make sense in each other’s worlds?
He didn’t offer a thing. Just stood there.
“I got your message, remember? You broke up with me. So what are you doing here?” Cecily asked. Her heart was absolutely pounding. Her head starting to spin. She thought she really had a grip on all of this, but her heart felt like it was absolutely shattering. Why on earth had she waited to see him, just to make sure the break was complete?
“Want to make sure you’re okay.”
She cocked her head and stared at him. “Do you mean James? Already told you he hasn’t tried anything. Or do you mean given that you dumped me? Do you have any new thoughts on that?”
Shane looked brilliantly blank, and then he said in a resolute voice, “No new thoughts.”
The pain in Cecily’s heart was just excruciating. “The impression I’m getting is that you want me to tell you to go to hell so you can feel better about what you did.” Oh, god, this was a really stupid idea. Coming back to the Armory. Waiting for Shane to come back. She’d told Missy she wanted to see him, and now that she saw him, she knew she never wanted to lay eyes on him again. I’ve got to get the hell out of here. This isn’t my place.
“Not gonna feel better. Just wanted to—”
In a voice she made sure sounded frozen solid, Cecily said, “Wait. I don’t actually give a shit about what you want anymore.” Before the tears came, she just turned on her heels and lifted her empty mug, saying without even turning around, “Good night, Shane. Glad you got home safe.”
She couldn’t tell if he watched her walk all the way back down the hall, but she figured he had, and it was all she could do not to haul flannel-clad ass.
Cecily got back to her room, her taste for hot chocolate gone, wanting nothing more than the oblivion of sleep.
Missy was glued to a computer game, totally absorbed in another world as Cecily grabbed her suitcase and started packing up her meager possessions.
After a moment, Missy’s fingers went wild on the keyboard and then braked suddenly before she swept off the headphones and yelled, “Boss kill!”
She saw Cecily closing the locks on her suitcase, and her face fell. “Oh. You’re going.” She caught Cecily’s gaze. “Gonna miss hanging out with another girl. You sure you don’t want to stay?”
Cecily nodded. “Yeah. Thank you so much for everything, Missy. It’s been great bunking with you, and I totally appreciate it, but Ally’s apartment is really nice. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
Missy’s answer was exactly what Cecily expected: “This is family.” The girl looked at her hopefully and added, “It could be your family too. You could join, stay.”
Before Cecily’d been confused by the intense loyalty the team members dedicated to the Armory; now she just felt wistful.
Cecily was surprised at how incredibly lovely that idea sounded. An idea that she once couldn’t imagine at all, before her definition of what “real life” could be had blown wide-open.
But she couldn’t be at the Armory without being with Shane, and he’d confirmed “they” were not going to happen.
Cecily shook her head, managing a small smile. Then she got into bed and stared up at the ceiling, praying she’d fall asleep fast.
Missy got herself ready for bed and then turned off the lights. In the dark, from her own bed, she asked, “You know you can’t tell Ally any details about the mission we’re working on. She left. She’s not inside anymore. We trust her to a certain extent, but she can’t know about James’s role as a handler for the sleeper agents we’ve been working on. You’re clear on that. Right?”
“I’m clear on that,” Cecily said. “Believe me when I tell you that I’m going out there for the normal. The mission stays here when I go.”
“Good.” After a pause, Missy asked, “You tell Shane you’re going?”
“Why would I tell Shane?”
Cecily knew Missy wouldn’t answer, and the girl didn’t.
Cecily pulled out her phone and set the alarm. Then she sent an e-mail replying to Allison’s follow-up from earlier in the day: Tomorrow’s perfect. Will bring deposit.
And then, after holding it together, she very quietly broke.
CHAPTER 29
The bar was an Armory original, a part of the structure Rothgar hadn’t completely ripped apart to upgrade for security or comfort. Clusters of big leather chairs sat among relics of the past, including an old clock from the Civil War era—which Flynn had probably rewired—and a wall stacked with barrels once used for moonshine.
Shane found Romeo at the bar swathed in a red blanket falling off one shoulder, looking like a depressed superhero. The big man himself was dressed down in gray sweats, and if he was sick, he was, nonetheless, drinking gin on the rocks.
Nick sat next to him, a chiseled Adonis in a suit, downing something fancier involving olives and a swizzle stick. He lifted his drink to Shane in greeting.
Shane went behind the bar, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and took a seat across from the guys. “You’d better be really fucking si
ck,” he said to Romeo.
Romeo gazed at him with hooded eyes. He actually looked in pretty bad shape. “You do her?” he asked.
Shane took a giant gulp of beer. “I don’t know how you do what you do. On call. Just like that.”
“I like pussy,” Romeo said.
“I like pussy too,” Shane said. “I just like having a say ’bout what tail I’m gonna pursue.”
Romeo stuck a piece of ice in his mouth and crunched down. “Sometimes having a mission on the line just makes it hotter.”
“You like having Rothgar in your ear while you fuck?” Shane asked.
Laughter all around on that one.
“Kinda have to side with Shane,” Nick said. “But mostly because those Russian chicks need more meat on the bones for my taste. I like a bigger canvas on which to do my art.”
“Been Anya’s ‘driver’ a couple of times,” Romeo said with a cocky grin. “She’s lonely, she’s got a boyfriend who doesn’t do it for her, and she likes to fuck the help. Probably because she’s tired of being bossed around, wants to call the shots. She give you head?”
Shane drank his beer and stared across the bar at a point over Romeo’s head. In his peripheral vision, Romeo grinned and elbowed Nick. “Rumors look to be true.”
“What rumors?”
“That the lights have gone on at last. A man’s not gonna complain about Anya Gorchakov sucking his cock unless he’s got someone serious on his mind.”
“She’s sweet on the eyes,” Nick said across the bar. “Dex’s sis, I mean.”
Shane’s gaze shot to Nick. “You treat her with respect,” he barked.
All that got Shane was another grin shared between his brothers across the way, there. “Seems like you’re the one going scorched earth,” Romeo said.
Shane put down his beer. “How’s that exactly?”
“You’re the one who told Dex you messed around with his sister, that she wanted it, and now you’re done.”
“Ouch,” Nick said, with a laugh of disbelief.
“That interpretation has some serious spin, man,” Shane said, getting up for another beer and realizing on the way that he was a little drunker than he’d previously thought.
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